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Traffic and Weather
Coming across the floor to greet us
if written as close to the progression
when sun comes blinding in
could that adhere or be as precise
surely there is something true
if written as close to the progression
now light is changing across where I am
I have observed it on others and now it changes me
if I chronicle the progression
surely there is something true

but looking closer
it changes surfaces
but does not change within itself
location changes quicker than intensity
although intensity will change
not as noticeably
and later it will be quite noticeable

does not change the surface itself
although it will
right now it does not
it appears powerful
it is seen as powerful
and it will be powerful
but right now it does not change the surface
not this second
I will go stand in front of it
and surrounded
and in that way I should look upon the city and its skyscrapers
even in the direct beam of heat and light
and the skyline appears as through a haze
created on the windowglass
of its own dissolution

as the molecules are made of it
and seeing it shall be in grand scale
and intimate as dust splotches on glass
rubbed on my fingers
and haloing the view
the view of skyscraper, sky, cloud, river, wharve, and dustpit
dustpit where skyscraper was and were
had been
a constructed dustpit, constructed out of what had been where
and were

but my water glass is over by the window
despite writing that I would go stand there I didn’t
and the beam moves slowly over from where I should have been
but wasn’t, over to things I talk about seeing when I am not seeing
it takes a moment of looking and then another minute of writing
then another moment of looking and more minutes of writing
yes, a million things could happen in that minute or moment between looking and writing
it is still linked to this site and is still specific
while I would like to believe I am not here in that split-second between absorbing and transferring
I am, and my water sits over by the window
absorbing that to which I am not attending
there is always time and never time
to be somewhere in time
each five minutes has an impingement
and each second another second between it

I was not enfolded
or even warmed
where is the bus to take me home?
where can I put my bag down and gaze out the window
at the passing facades?
but the dark blue is also beautiful
and the glass becomes transparent again now
the light is not on it
moving inside to outside, now

ferries move slowly across the harbor, their lights yellow upon the blue waters
water choppy and thus glittery
reflecting more intensely the sky quickly changing

I am waiting for your call, to be released
from inside to outside. To walk northwards arm-in-arm
on sidewalks built for us and maintained:
Some original sidewalks remain, long granite extrusions
and then newer ones, unmarked by leaf, foot or hand.

Others are sanded down and labeled with orange.
People would sue their city if they trip over its grounds
while in its environs and under its protection
it would pay them back even as they have paid.
Even as they have lived here and been part of it.
They would want more and look to the sidewalks,
their underfoot, their grounds, that which leads them
from street to street and to all of the avenues.



Marcella Durand is the author of Traffic & Weather (Futurepoem), AREA (Belladonna), and, with Tina Darragh, Deep Eco Pré (Little Red Leaves). “In This World Previous to Ours” is an excerpt from a book-length alexandrine.